In 2003, a young woman leaves home without telling her family that she is not coming back. She spends the next six years moving from house to house and living hand-to- mouth; at first with her lover, and then alone.
And The Walls Come Crumbling Down parallels three events in the author’s life: the physical deterioration of the house in which she lives, the emotional disintegration of a couple once in love, and the unearthing of childhood ghosts that can’t seem to be cast off. Part memoir and part poetic rumination, it is an ode to love, loss and the people and places we call home.
Tania De Rozario is a writer and visual artist. She is the author of four books. Her latest collection, Dinner on Monster Island (Harper Perennial, 2024), has been described as “sharp and searing” (Ms. Magazine), “unique” (Publishers Weekly), “a book with resonance” (Kirkus Reviews), "taut and riveting" (LA Times), "elegant", "droll" and "magnetic" (British Columbia Review).
She is also the author of Tender Delirium (2013, Math Paper Press), And The Walls Come Crumbling Down (2016, Math Paper Press / 2020, Gaudy Boy), and Somewhere Else, Another You (2018, Math Paper Press).
Tania’s writing has won the New Ohio Review Nonfiction Contest (2020) and the Muriel Craft Bailey Poetry Contest (2021), has been a finalist at the Lambda Literary Awards (2021) and has been published in journals/anthologies across four continents. Her art has been showcased in Singapore, Europe and the US. She has written widely about art, with a focus on Singapore and Southeast Asia, and has also worked as an adjunct, teaching at the UBC School of Creative Writing (Canada, 2021-2023) and across faculties at Lasalle College of the Arts (Singapore, 2006-2018).
The style and theme of the book was is reminiscent of Jeanette Winterson's earlier efforts - poetic and airy while serving up a harsh dose of identity crisis. Would love for the last third of the book to stretch out even more to be more aligned to the pace of the first two thirds. Overall, really enjoyable.
The last few chapters was really stirring. I can only say Singapore literary authors have a unique way of writing. I'd say one that is brutally honest yet intimate in its own way. While few expressions may have sounded elusive and uncalled for, overall however, their way of perceiving our hometown in relation to their personal experiences has been quite refreshing.
8 May 22 update Read a few more pages once more and I must say from my past experiences of analysing SingLit, local literary authors have a way of interplaying between social commentaries on urbanisation and their personal experiences in a 'masterful' yet, distinct manner. It is unlike that of academic research papers while it may sound like one on the surface (think Teo Yeo Yan "This is what inequality looks like" that comes with its own set of visuals). They have a way of speaking life into our common living spaces which I'm always intrigued by. It is at once familiar, yet the thrilling part comes when it prompts us to think again on the narratives ingrained in us through our years of growing in Singapore.
A decent enough if dull, diaristic and self-indulgent chapbook on houses, moving and belonging. You get the feeling that the author has nothing particularly original to share.
Wow, this book was stunning and incredibly well-crafted as a creative non-fiction memoir. This book digs deeply into themes of home, belonging, and displacement through the intimate perspective of a queer multiracial woman in Singapore. The author intricately weaves together pieces of writing which are poetic, vivid, and both politically and personally resonant. As someone who has never travelled to Singapore before, this book provided an opportunity to consider what it might be like to experience life there, too. Tania De Rozario's work is necessary to read!
"Coming home to someone is many things. It is a literal action, an abstract idea, a physical feeling. It is more than the sound of the key turning in the door and the voice that calls from the porch. It is a choice, a promise, a declaration. It is a return, not as a person to a place, but as oneself to another. It is one person saying to another: You are the one I choose."
To appreciate this, you have to embrace that it is more poetry than prose. Fragmented, poignant and haunted. It winds a bit too much near the end, but it draws the right connections between homes and people.
Shades of Jeanette Winterson in Rozario's poetic prose - sometimes discursive, always thoughtful and imaginative. Beautiful writing, and I actually preferred it to tender delirium ( though that was also good). The lost relationship threaded through the book haunts you even when you've put the book away, like a trace of something bitter in the mouth.
Finished the book in one seating and was once again amazed by Tania's intimate yet controlled writing. So honest, raw, angry, and refined, all at the same time. It finds its way to the deepest parts of your mind and soul. Loved it - Termites, underground houses, and broken love - everything about it.
Credibility: 10 The author mentioned in the preface that there are fictional elements woven in, but it’s honestly difficult to pinpoint which parts they are. Her voice stays consistently authentic throughout the book and seamlessly navigates shifting various subjects.
Setting/Theme: 10 I just have to give her flowers on how many social issues she could draw from a single discourse of house. Her exploration of hard-hitting themes like queerness, Asian values, the modernization of Singapore, etc feels so personal yet deeply nuanced and objective.
Writing Style: 10 What really sold me on this book concept was the perfect balance between its vivid, poetic analogies and the grounded realism of her writing. Her tone flows seamlessly between sharpness and sentimentality, which gives the stories a greater impact.
Personal Impact: 10 This book is filled with concise yet profoundly impactful quotes that not only make me reflect deeply on the society we live in but also leave me with the feeling that the author has seen right through my feeling.
Logic/Informativeness: 10 Contrary to what is stated in the preface, the little vignettes are surprisingly well-connected and cohesive that they are all make sense structurally.
My personal favorite aspect of the book is the subtle critique of contemporary Singaporean society towards the end. It’s both insightful and serves as an effective way to frame all the themes explored up to that point within a larger context of society.
Intrigue/Enjoyment: 10 For me, this book is a perfect blend of personal memoirs and soulful poetry. It’s such a mesmerizing and intriguing short read that it’s honestly a crime how underrated it is.
I, uh, honestly don't know what to say. If rumination is this long, then please stop, because that was one rollercoaster ride.
There are thoughts that make you feel incomplete. There are thoughts that are measured and too short, you look for more. I don't make sense (in this review), do I?
Anyways, I appreciate the work. At the first few chapters, I felt the somber mood of heartbreaks, and being trapped and jaded and lost. However, there are times when I felt off at the latter pages -- there are inserted characters that are irrelevant, deliberately put there as a device to evoke an emotion out of a chapter. That felt weird.
First #ASEAN read of 2019! Looking forward for more. :D
The lyricism of the prose is certainly something to marvel at, and it is clear De Rozario is skilled with her employment of language. The narrative thread of heartbreak and betrayal is compelling, and by far the strongest aspects of the book. But where it lacks, for me, is in cohesiveness. The chapter “Blueprint” felt very out of place in what is a very deeply personal articulation of (queer) identity. The polemic sliced in between gushing and confessional prose feels trite, cliché (every Singaporean author has, at some point, talked about its staid urbanity, using the same few metaphors), and distracting. I could have done without it and have the story fleshed out in a more coherent fashion.
The book raised issues of adolescence - acceptance by peers, main caregiver, tribulations being queer, the origination of it and having to see someone once queer n close married to the opposite sex. Tension with parents and in so finding an abode that she can belong to.
However, the prose is slightly haphazard especially in the last chapter on foreign workers and her love that repeats itself out of the blue. As though a soul caught in mid air without any specific direction to latch upon but spinning upon the only thread of her love when she feels so.
There are times when I'm insanely jealous of the author's magical prose and choice of words and analogies and this is one of those times. I don't know how she did it, but Tania managed to record down the fragility of her environment and also bravely documenting and sharing her own vulnerability. I saw this book being recommended by BooksActually's Instagram with a similar adjective of vulnerability/humanity and was skeptical at first but I was wrong. I'd recommend this to anyone who's missing a little human touch and vulnerability in our socially distanced times.
Raw and honest. Enjoyable short read. Themes on sexual orientation in context with our current society, journey of self acceptance and self discovery through tribulations, impactful story telling of minority or marginalised groups.
Written in 2016, her stories still carry its weight especially so in 2020.
An ode to the heartaches of growth. The writing was raw, honest, and tentative. Reading this memoir was such an intimate experience for me. The fragility of home reverberates in the wake of her voice.
its simple, unpretentious and universal -- there's an inexplicable rawness to Tania De Rozario's writing that makes every page that much more riveting and delicious. It was one of the first SingLit books that I bought from BooksActually, and I am not disappointed.
Just felt like a long rant. Some of it is clearly valid, but didn’t need to be as many pages as it was. At least I learned such “artistic” works are a phenomenon around the world!
Love. The writing is so poetic without being flowery or verbose. I felt the heaviness and heartbreak of the authors losses, changes, loneliness, to my bones. Worth a read if you like evocative writing, explorations of love, loss, queerness, and family.
Something about the writing didn’t click for me. While I occasionally liked the home metaphor (stairs as ancestry - nice), most of the time it felt tired or overused (crumbling walls, roofs, basements, etc). I found myself skimming a lot. There were a few gorgeous passages but the prose felt quite forced.
The full version of my official blurb on the back of the book:
"Tania De Rozario is a marvel. Her writing evokes the same feeling as when I first discovered the music of Trent Reznor, with words raw and biting, but above all honest. In this truly remarkable memoir, she lays bare the emotional turmoil and heartbreak that comes from multiple betrayals: by the stroke that steals her grandmother's voice, by the righteous religiosity that forces her mother to choose intolerant belief over parental love, by her homeland's unreasonable standard of living that manifests as constant, literal dislocation, by the callous disregard of a significant lover that upends her whole world. Written in agonisingly beautiful prose, De Rozario presents her pain, unvarnished, for all to bear witness. Her voice is vital, and desperately necessary."